----
The next day...
The underground market was never truly quiet, even when it tried to be.
Its sounds were simply different from the upper streets. Above ground, trade had wheels, shouting, open lies, and sunlight pretending everything ugly was still part of normal life. Below ground, the market breathed through lower noises. Boots on damp stone. Coins touched under cloth. Short arguments that ended before they became memorable. The scrape of crates pushed into side rooms. Quiet laughter from men who trusted darkness more than law. It was a place where people preferred not to raise their voices unless they meant to raise knives right after.
Raka liked places like that.
